


New Years Countdown

by captainshellhead, vibraniumstark



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, New Years, Steve Feels, Steve Needs a Hug, Tony Feels, Tony Needs a Hug, relationship troubles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainshellhead/pseuds/captainshellhead, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vibraniumstark/pseuds/vibraniumstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is waiting for Steve to come celebrate New Year's Eve. And waiting. And waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Years Countdown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nightwalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightwalker/gifts).



> Just a short fic to celebrate New Years! I originally posted this on my tumblr and left the ending sad, but then I felt bad and so I fixed it.

Tony put on his favorite suit, something he would wear to an important fundraiser, and then wondered if maybe he looked like he was trying too hard. Normally it was just the kind of thing he would wear for New Year’s Eve. Stark Industries hosted a party every year. Most years he’d already be in the middle of throngs of people, always the life of the party. Maybe once upon a time he would already be drunk on champagne. 

But tonight he had no intentions of going to the party, and Pepper already knew not to expect him.

Eventually, after trying a variety of outfits over an embarrassing amount of time, he’d stripped down to his shirtsleeves and slacks, and then quickly gone back for a sweater to pull over-top when he realized how cold the penthouse was. He ditched the tie altogether and padded out to the kitchen island in his socked feet.

He’d pulled the ice bucket out of the fridge, a tall green bottle already chilling. It was just sparkling cider, but…he didn’t think Steve would mind. It wasn't like he could get drunk, anyway, so champagne or wine or sparkling cider should all be the same to him. Then he went to settle on the couch with his tablet, doing his best to look like he wasn’t waiting anxiously by the door like a puppy.

 

Tony stared at the clock on the wall and wondered if it was running fast, because it was almost midnight and Steve had said he’d be here—

He checked the time with his phone, and then again with JARVIS, just to make sure. He and Steve had gotten into a fight a couple of days ago, and Steve had stormed off to go sleep in his own apartment in Brooklyn. They’d had their fair share of arguments, before and after they’d started dating, and they’d both said their fair share of shitty things to each other in the heat of the moment, but even Tony could recognize that he’d crossed a line this time. He’d never had Steve walk out on him like that.

But. They’d been planning New Years for a lot longer than they had been fighting, and Tony thought… 

Well. There was still time.

Tony tried calling him earlier, but Steve’s phone had either been off or uncharged. He considered trying again now, but decided against it, staring resolutely at the clock.

 

Tony watched the ball drop alone.

Then he got up and packed away some of the food he’d set out into the fridge. He was on the last box of chocolate covered strawberries, the fridge full to bursting (and okay, he might have gone a little overboard on the appetizers, but he’d wanted to make sure that he got something that Steve liked, which didn’t really matter now) when he heard the latch on the door click. He wasn’t proud of how hopeful he must have looked.

It was Rhodey.

 

“Come on, Tony. I’m going back to the party. I know it’s past midnight but you can still come,” Rhodey said. “Everyone expects you to be late, anyway. No one will look twice.”

“No, I…I’d better not. I’ll just,” Tony paused and very resolutely resisted looking at the clock again. He knew that not even a full minute had passed since the last time he’d checked the time. Instead of finishing the sentence, he cleared his throat and tried, “I’m good here.”

It sounded weak even to him. Rhodey sighed, and the frown on his face softened ever so slightly. The expression made Tony squirm.

“Tony,” Rhodey said gently, and the tone of voice made him want to sink through the floor, “I don’t think he’s coming.”

“ _I know he’s not coming_ ,” Tony snapped. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, as though he could pretend that was the only reason he felt so raw. He shot Rhodey an apologetic look, because it wasn’t his fault that Tony was such a fuck-up. “I know, okay, just—can you,” he snatched the bottle of sparkling cider out of the ice bucket, sending little chips of ice skittering across the floor, and pressed it into Rhodey’s hand like it was burning him, “can you just get rid of this? Just dump it or drink it or, I don’t care, just…take it and go. Back to your party.”

“Tony,” Rhodey tried again, but Tony just talked right over him.

“I’m fine, Rhodey. Really. Go back to your party before you miss all of the fun.”

Rhodey stared at him long and hard, but the man could write a novel on _How to Handle Your Stark_ , and he knew when to pick his battles. “You call me, and I’ll come get you,” he offered instead, and Tony appreciated the way he made it sound so casual, like the offer was just in case he changed his mind. “Okay? Call me.”

Tony shrugged stiffly, and then nodded until Rhodey looked satisfied. “I’ll just…be in my workshop,” Tony added, casting one more glance toward the elevators before heading that way. 

 

 

Tony’s neck was stiff, and there were fingers brushing through his hair. He sighed and leaned into the touch before his brain managed to catch up, remember that he was in his workshop and he had _not_ had his favorite afghan draped over his shoulders earlier and that could only mean one thing.

He blinked awake, and Steve smiled at him as he murmured, "Happy New Year."

"Steve?" Tony mumbled, voice still slurred with sleep. He must have drifted off on his work bench last night, and he pushed himself up on his elbows to blink blearily at Steve. The lab was surprisingly dark, the lights having been dimmed while he was sleeping. "What time is it?"

"A little after three in the morning," he said apologetically. He brushed a few stray hairs back from Tony’s forehead with his thumb. "Rhodey called me," Steve said, making a face as though the man had appeared on his doorstep with an ax. "I didn't think you'd still want to celebrate together, after everything I said. But you waited up for me."

Tony nodded, pinching his eyes shut briefly, as though to will them adjust, or maybe will them not to do something embarrassing like tear up. "I was scared you weren't coming back," Tony whispered.

It was a little too honest, maybe, with that hollow ache he'd been carrying all night bleeding into his voice. He knew that even half-asleep. But he'd never been good at being guarded when it came to Steve. 

Steve's smile softened. "I'm sorry," he said. Steve leaned in, pausing inches from Tony's mouth just long enough to test if Tony would pull away, and then kissed him slowly, relishing the feel of his still sleep-warm lips.

"I had party food," Tony said. "It's probably all soggy and sad looking now."

"I don't care," Steve said. 

"And I—there was cider. Rhodey took the cider," Tony continued. Steve squeezed his hand.

"It's okay," Steve said. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony blurted. 

“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have stormed off,” Steve said. "I know you were really excited about tonight, and I'm so sorry that I missed that."

"Yeah well, new year, new leaf and all that," Tony said.

"I should have made up with you _last_ year," Steve said. "I was being stubborn."

"You had good reason. I'm not exactly the most pleasant person to be around, sometimes."

Steve kissed him silent. "I said I'd be here and I wasn't," he said. "That's my fault." He slid his hands under Tony's thighs and lifted him easily, stepping away from the work bench and toward the elevator. "Let me make it up to you now."

“Okay,” Tony agreed breathlessly. “Steve?”

“Hm?” He mashed the elevator call button with his elbow, and leaned Tony back against the door to kiss him, a real proper New Years Kiss.

“Happy New Year.”


End file.
